The Labyrinth
by Chain of Prospit
Summary: The king had hair like fire and eyes that glowed green. With his head tilted intriguingly downward, his gaze flickered up, smoldering. "Hello, Demyx," he said with a smirk curving along his lips. "Remember me?"
1. The Red Book

**A/N**: I had to.

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**Genre: **Fantasy/Romance. **Fandom: **Kingdom Hearts, The Labyrinth.

**Summary: **Myde is just an ordinary misfit with a story in his head. What he never expects is that, in a fit of anger, something as simple as a line spoken aloud could cause the whole thing to become real. Now the ruler of the World That Never Was, Axel, is holding his half brother hostage, and the only way to get through is to solve the Labyrinth of infamy. In a place that Never Was, where nothing is what it seems, Myde is about to discover just how strange fiction can be. KingdomHearts/Labyrinth X-Over. Rated T for now.

**Disclaimer: **I own neither the characters nor the plot, only the unique way in which I shall interpret them.

**Warnings: **Cussing, possible adult themes, violence, man-on-man romance.

**The Labyrinth**

**Chapter 1**

**The Red Book  
**

* * *

I hate my stepmother.

I swear to God. She's evil. And she's making me babysit my brat of a little brother, _again_.

Her name is Arlene. She keeps asking me to call her 'mom,' but that's just not gonna happen, sorry. I have _no idea_ why Ansem married her. She's horrible. And their names don't even go together! Isn't that bad luck or something? "Arlene and Ansem." It doesn't fit _at all_!

Besides which, she looks like a bug. Honest to God. She's got this slicked back blonde hair like Ansem but with two ridges on either side, which makes it look like she's got these antennae that are just trying with all their might to escape from under all that gel and spring up like the buggy feelers they are. Even her body resembles a wasp. Seriously, if she _didn't_ have that body, you wouldn't be able to tell her apart from Ansem, except that she has a pointier chin. Her hair's so short, you'd never be able to tell she was a girl.

"Honeyyyy?" she calls.

Well, that and her voice. Which is annoying.

Errrgh.

"What," I say.

"We're heading out now, okay? Take care of Roxas for us, all right? Love you, baby."

One—why do you even go on dates any more? Aren't you, like, _old_? Two—Roxas is thirteen. He doesn't need taking care of. And three—I HATE YOU.

The door clicks shut.

Witch.

I don't hate a lot of people, you know. But she just drives me insane—it's always Roxas this and Roxas that. Arlene and Ansem are obsessed with Roxas. He's their blonde little golden child. Whereas I'm the semi-brunette musical misfit. I don't get why they favor him, other than he's an actual legitimate child. Legitimacy be damned, he's a brat. Seriously. Like I said, I'm really not a hateful person. I like to think the best of people—I'm an optimist, in fact. Glass-half-full. Honest. Most people would describe me as a cheerful, friendly guy.

Roxas, though… oh, man. Roxas has a way of getting on my nerves like no one else can. He hates me, he's always hated me, and for no reason at all. I've never done anything to him, except in retaliation! It's like just _existing_ before he does made me his mortal enemy or something. Now he just likes to make my life Hell. Isn't that ironic? _He's_ the younger one, yet he's the cunning little shit—if you'll pardon my French.

Where is the little turd, anyway? I don't hear him. This is a welcome change. I decide I don't care if they want me to babysit a thirteen-year-old brat. I am going to go in my room and write. End of story.

I never really fancied myself a writer, but I've always had this insane story floating around in my head—never any more than that, always that one story. I don't know where it came from. I'm almost positive I'm not a natural author—I'm constantly scribbling out and erasing and rewriting, rewriting, rewriting. It's so hard to get the words to sound right. It's like there's a way they're supposed to be written, and I have to _find _it. On rare occasions, I'll be sitting at my keyboard or with my journal in hand and something will kind of take over me. The words will just write themselves. But that's only when I'm lucky—the rest of the lines almost always change. I've been writing this story since elementary school. The only lines that stick around are the Epiphany Lines. Those are the ones repeating in my head all day long. They're the ones I speak aloud to myself when I'm alone, just because they sound so right.

I dunno, maybe I'm cra—what. The. Fuck.

"Hey, freak," Roxas greets me as I reach the doorway of my bedroom.

I set my jaw, pulse racing with anger. How did he get in my room? I lock the door! And _what _is that in his hands? "Get out."

"Nah, I don't think I will," he says nonchalantly. He tosses something red, small, and rectangular into the air.

No.

"Give me that back right now," I demand.

"Why?" he asks. "Something important?"

Yes, you asshole.

He spins it between his fingers idly. "A diary, perhaps?"

No. Much more personal.

I step towards him. "I said, _give it back_."

"What're you gonna do about it?" he challenges. "Call Mom and Dad?"

"Put it down."

He flips to the first page, humming. "_The Labyrinth_," he reads out loud dramatically. I wince at every over-stressed word. "_Every person has a Shadow. _Dun dun dun. _Entirely apart from them, Shadows wander another world… _Oooh:_ …seeking redemption through the vices of consumption and avarice._ Ha. This your little fairy tale? Does using big words make you feel like you're worth something?"

"I'll tell your girlfriend you're gay," I threaten. It's a low blow, but necessary.

It works. He glares at me. "Tell her anything you want; it's not true."

"No?" I taunt. "I suppose Seifer would say the same thing?"

I caught him and his frenemy together in the basement a while back, sticking their tongues down each others' throats. He threatened me to never speak of it again, which is why he's so red-faced angry right now. It's the only black-mail I have on him. Normally I wouldn't resort to this, but that's my _life's work_ he's holding in his hands.

"Shut up," he hisses.

"Gee, Seifer's such a stud, what a catch," I croon. "Olette would be sooo proud of you." Olette is his girlfriend.

"Or I could show Dad your obsession with death and demons," threatens Roxas. "Think he would hesitate to put you away?"

It's not an empty threat. We both know he wouldn't have a second thought about locking me up in a loony bin. It's not because he's evil, necessarily, just has an intense fear of crazy people.

"Put it down," I sigh.

"After that snipe, I don't think I will," says Roxas nastily. He flips through the pages once more.

Don't you dare.

"_The King of Shadows is a beauteous beast with hair like fire and eyes that glow green. With a quirkily lowered head, his gaze permeates, smirk curving along his porcelain lips_," he recites melodramatically, smirking. "Who's the faggot now?"

"Fuck you!" I explode. This is a big deal. I almost never cuss.

"You know I can hear you moaning about your beloved demon king in the shower, right?" says Roxas, eyes glinting with righteous fury. "Reading lines from this stupid wannabe book of faggotry. You're fucking retarded."

I storm over to him and knock the book from his hands, getting in his face. "At least I'm not some whiny little bitch in denial who wouldn't be able to do a goddamn thing if it weren't for the silver spoon he was born sucking."

He flinches. "At least I'm not such a failure he has to make up his own little world to live in because he wouldn't be able to stand to look at himself in the mirror if he would only see the worthless faggot fuck he really is."

I don't even realize my fist is flying until it connects with his nose with sickening impact. He blinks in shock, stepping back as he lifts a finger to touch his nose. It comes away coated with crimson.

"Your gross worth is thirteen years of nothing," I say coolly. "I could care less if a Shadow from that book came out and devoured your soul right now. Not a goddamn thing would have changed."

He grins suddenly, the blood from his nose dripping down over his lips and staining his teeth. "Have fun explaining this to Mom and Dad," he says. "Tomorrow. When I get home again."

I shut my eyes to block out the image of his grin, and he's gone.

After a few calming breaths and a thick swallow, I shake my head and rub my eyes. I kneel to pick up my book, which he's bent the pages of. I feel dumb, like his words stuck to me, to my skin. I thumb open to the page he was last on, then flip to the next one. Page 52. It consists almost entirely of crossed-out lines, except for one section in the middle, which I kept.

"_Hey, No-One's king / Just come and get / The Heartless No One / I have met_," I mutter to myself. It's nothing but a little rhyme, but it seems appropriate.

'No One's King.' I'm still debating on a title for him, but he's the ruler of the Land of Shadows. I'd really fucking love for him to just show up and kidnap my brother right now. I really would. Nobody has a heart in the Land of Shadows; seems like an appropriate place for him to be.

See? Look what he does to me. I'm a nice guy. I swear. But I'm always angry in this house. I feel like I think 'fuck' every other word. I don't even like cussing. It gives me a bad taste.

"I'm going out. To a party," calls Roxas from downstairs. "Have fun with—oh. That's right. You don't have friends."

A low, amused chuckle floats under the crack as the door slams shut.

You know what? I am not taking responsibility any more, I decide. I don't care what trouble I get in for 'letting' him leave. This is ridiculous. He's not even my real brother anyway. Fuck him.

Fuck him.

The door slams again.

"Back so soon?" I mutter, kicking my door shut and collapsing on my bed. "Want a punch in the guts this time? Oh, that's right—you don't have any."

"I have plenty, actually," drawls a voice from behind my door.

It's not Roxas's voice.

I open one eye resentfully to check. There is a foot in my door, clad in a shiny black boot.

Roxas doesn't wear boots.

Neither do Arlene or Ansem.

"Who the Hell are you?" I say, sitting up.

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**A/N: **Yes, short chapters. For the first time in my life. However, updates are bound to be more frequent, since I already know the plot from beginning to end. Keep an eye open.

Also, for those curious, the pairings are as of yet undecided.


	2. The Shadow King

**A/N:** Whoah. I think this is my first consecutive-day update... ever. Perhaps this really will go quickly.

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**Genre: **Fantasy/Romance. **Fandom: **Kingdom Hearts, The Labyrinth.

**Summary: **Myde is just an ordinary misfit with a story in his head. What he never expects is that, in a fit of anger, something as simple as a line spoken aloud could cause the whole thing to become real. Now the ruler of the World That Never Was, Axel, is holding his half brother hostage, and the only way to get through is to solve the Labyrinth of infamy. In a place that Never Was, where nothing is what it seems, Myde is about to discover just how strange fiction can be. KingdomHearts/Labyrinth X-Over. Rated T for now.

**Disclaimer: **I own neither the characters nor the plot, only the unique way in which I shall interpret them.

**Warnings: **Cussing, possible adult themes, violence, man-on-man romance.

**The Labyrinth**

**Chapter 2  
**

**King of Shadows  
**

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_The King of Shadows was a beauteous beast, with hair like fire and eyes that glow green. With a quirkily lowered head, his gaze permeated my skin, wrapping my spine in shivers. A smirk curved along his porcelain lips. His skin was so smooth and pale he could be made of milky glass._

_More striking than his appearance, if that may even be, was the voice that fell from his silver-gilded tongue. Husky, silky, and dry, his words danced in a lilting range of entrancement. _

"_Hello, Demyx," he said. "Remember me?"_

* * *

The man standing before me is tall and scimitar-thin. His hair is crimson and flares out like flames, which clashes intriguingly with his radioactive green eyes. He is vampire-pale and smirking.

Then he speaks, and both his voice and words stab through me with a frighteningly familiar vibration.

"Hello, Demyx," he says. "Remember me?"

It barely even registers that he is using my character's name, not mine. It's him.

That is not possible. Not possible at all.

Not trusting myself to respond, I hold my breath and reach out a tentative hand, testing if he's real. My skin meets solid mass as my hand presses to the black leather over his chest. My breath hitches in terrified fascination.

I'm still not convinced it's real until his hand grabs mine. It is warm—hot, actually. As hot as fire—but painless.

"I like how your first instinct is to touch me," he says with a chuckle. "That's cute."

I snatch my hand away belatedly. "What are you doing here?"

He rolls his eyes, leaning against my doorway casually. "Uh, you _called_," he drawls.

I shake my head emphatically. "No, I didn't…"

"Really?" He smirks. "You mean that little rhyme of yours _wasn't_ a summon spell? I mean, it was a couple letters off, sure. But it clearly worked well enough. I'm here, aren't I?"

"You—I—" I splutter.

"Took you long enough, too," he goes on. "I'm not _that_ patient, you know." He flashes a grin.

Dang, I think surreally. No fangs or pointed teeth. I'll have to rewrite that part…

"Why… why are you here?" I ask, fingers fumbling behind me for the red journal. "And I'm not Demyx," I add as an afterthought.

"No?" His grin widens.

I blink at his knowing aura. "N-no…" I mumble, then speak up. "I'm Myde. Completely different." I clutch the journal in my trembling hands, not sure what I grabbed it for.

"Really? Looks just the same to me. In any case, either way I'm still here. It was _your_ wish that I granted." He bows deeply, which makes me uneasy. "You're welcome."

"Thank y—" I begin automatically, then fall short. "Wait. What wish?"

Don't say what I think you're about to say, I silently pray. The character in my book has a brother, too.

"Gracious, you're daft," he says cheerfully. "_Hey No One's King / Just come and get / The Heartleast No One / I have met_… Sound familiar?"

Oh fuck hell ass balls no. "That's not—"

"Oh yes it is!" he crows, clearly enjoying this. Sicko. "And as per your request, your annoying twit of a brother has been removed."

"Removed?" I panic. "What the hell did you do?"

"I took him," he says, blinking. "Like you _wanted?_"

No no no no idiot! "I didn't _mean_ it!" Oh crap. This is bad. Bad, bad, bad.

"No? His nose sure seems to disagree. Quite a number your fist did on it. Not that he didn't deserve it. Apparently, he tried to bite poor Sai'x."

How very like him, I think dryly, not bothering to wonder who 'sai-ix' is. If there was any doubt in my mind that this guy is for real, it is now dissolved. "Bring him back," I say in an attempt at a commanding tone.

He looks offended by my attempt. Great. Now I've offended the Shadow King. "_No_," he says indignantly. "I did what you asked. You should be happy. You hated Roxas."

In the back of my mind, I corrected him. It's _Sora_ that's taken in the book.

"That doesn't matter," I say finally. "I only get mad at him, that's all. He's my brother! I don't want him kidnapped to the Land of fucking Shadows!"

Gaahhhh. What is it with me and cussing lately?

…Why did I just think that? That is totally not relevant! There is a fictional character in my bedroom! He has kidnapped my brother! Fuck shit whore!

"You most certainly do. You said so yourself." His smirk has faded, only to be replaced by an indignant frown. His displeasure appears so genuine that I almost feel bad. "And it's the World That Never Was."

"What?" I blink.

"The name. You wrote it wrong. Among other things."

"What do you—"

"Tell you what," he interrupts, slinging a long arm over my shoulder and curling his fingers lightly around the back of my neck. I try to shrug him off, but he has an iron grip. "I'll offer you a choice. An absolutely fair deal."

"What?"

"Forget about him," he croons. "Really. I can make it happen. Just agree to it and I can take your memory of him away forever. That and everyone else's. It'll be like he never existed. Let me do that, and I will do something for you."

Don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him—but it's not working. His voice is soft and hypnotic and his gaze draws me in beyond all resistance. He is so close to me at this point that I can feel the heat exuding from his body. His proximity makes me dizzy.

"Do what?" I find myself asking.

"I can make…" he murmurs temptingly, "…your dreams come true."

Has anyone ever been so cliché? …and legit? Uggh. Don't ask. Okay, don't ask. Don't do it.

"What d-dreams?"

Damnit. I asked. Why do I do that?

"I can give you a whole new world," he purrs. "You would be in charge. No parents telling you what to do. No little brother stealing your limelight."

Good god that is so tempting. I struggle to remain perfectly still as he lowers his lips right next to my ear. "You could fill it with music," he breathes.

This almost breaks me. I never thought of myself as having a Great Dream for the future, but hell if he hasn't just found it. Music is the world to me. Even more so than my book. When I'm stuck on a scene in the journal, I'll turn to the back of the page and scribble out a score for it instead. Just about every good line in that thing has accompanying background music in my head.

Oh my god. Stop it De—Myde. Stop it, Myde. You will never forgive yourself. Resist.

"Tempted?" he asks.

I will never forgive myself. But…

"What's the other option?" I ask suddenly.

He begins to walk around me, tracing a gloved finger around my shoulders. He stops behind me, exhaling lightly on the nape of my neck. I shiver. I can feel his smirk from out of sight.

"What other option?"

"You said it was a, um, a choice," I remind him carefully. "What's… the alternate choice?"

He pauses, then chuckles. "Oh. That."

"Yes, that," I say, voice growing stronger. "What is it?"

"The second choice is, you can have your brother back. If—"

"I choose that one," I blurt out. If I don't do the right thing now, I might not ever.

He walks in front of me again, not looking at me, and sits himself in my computer chair, which he spins to face away from me. "I wasn't finished," he scolds, sounding amused. "As I was saying… I'll give you your brother back. _If_ you can find your way to the Castle That Never Was by 13'o'clock midnight."

"There is no 13 o'clock," I say instantly. A feeling of stupidity washes over me immediately following. Like it matters. This is a _different world_ we're dealing with here.

"There absolutely is," he contradicts me. Of course. "And in fact, you have eight seconds until that clock starts. So make your choice. Dreams come true or brother come home? Eight."

"What?" I blanche. Pressure is bad. I don't do well under pressure. I tend to make hasty decisions. Good decisions cannot be made in eight seconds.

"Remember, you might not even find him in time. Seven."

"Am—Am I allowed to change my mind?" I ask, desperate for time.

"Six. No, not if you forget him. Five. But if you choose to search, you can always turn back. Four. All you have to do is call my name."

"Your name? What's your name?"

"Some writer you are," he snorts. "Axel. Three. That's A-X-E-L. Commit it to memory. Two."

"The second option," I say. I feel better knowing I can change my mind.

"One. You sure?"

No. Not at all. In fact, who am I kidding? I don't feel better at all. I feel _freaked out_.

"I'm sure."

"Zero."

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**A/N: **Is all this making sense? The chapters are still short, yes. Review, please. I'd like some feedback on this one--it's rather hasty. Oh, and while it may depend on how the story plays out, I'd like to hear your opinion--would you prefer to end up a AkuDemu pairing, or AkuRoku and Zemyx?


	3. The White Place

**A/N:** Almost forgot about this fic already. Don't blame me, it's finals week. It's getting a little shorter each chapter... but I'll fix that right up once there's some action, I'm sure. Can't rush the muse. In any case, here's another.  
**

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**

**Genre: **Fantasy/Romance. **Fandom: **Kingdom Hearts, The Labyrinth.

**Summary: **Myde is just an ordinary misfit with a story in his head. What he never expects is that, in a fit of anger, something as simple as a line spoken aloud could cause the whole thing to become real. Now the ruler of the World That Never Was, Axel, is holding his half brother hostage, and the only way to get through is to solve the Labyrinth of infamy. In a place that Never Was, where nothing is what it seems, Myde is about to discover just how strange fiction can be. KingdomHearts/Labyrinth X-Over. Rated T for now.

**Disclaimer: **I own neither the characters nor the plot, only the unique way in which I shall interpret them.

**Warnings: **Cussing, possible adult themes, violence, man-on-man romance.

**The Labyrinth**

**Chapter 3  
**

**The White Place**

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My room has been turned white.

No. It hasn't. It's just… disappeared. Along with everything else.

I am on a blank canvas, an empty plane of existence. There is definitely something solid beneath my feet, but that is all I can tell. Nothing but white envelops me.

Holy crap. Am I _dead_?

My mind immediately flashes to the Shadow King. What did he call himself? Axel?

That bastard!

Fiend.

Jerk.

Turdmuffin.

Hey, look… I've lost my cussing streak.

"Good thing, too," comments a voice.

I jump, whirling around.

Nothing.

"After all," the voice goes on, "I don't think Axel would be too happy to hear you calling him a… what was it? A 'turd muffin'? Whatever that is."

Still… no one is there.

"Are… are you reading my mind?" I ask the invisible visitor, slightly panicked.

There is a pause before I hear a response. "No… You're speaking aloud."

A figure steps out of nowhere.

I blink fiercely, adjusting to the sudden presence of color—though admittedly, there isn't much of it. The figure is clothed in a long coat, gloves, and boots, all of which seem to be fashioned from black leather. Even his skin seems colorless; it is nearly as fair as the white background behind him, though not quite. His hair, which is unruly-looking and covers one eye, is the only burst of color about him. It is a palette of colors difficult to describe. It seems to shimmer from light blue to periwinkle to lavender, with indigo roots. What to call it? Blue-violet? Storm? Slate?

'Slate' works, I decide.

The man raises an eyebrow at me—accentuating what I realize is the other shred of color on his person. Namely, his deep, indigo irises. I have never seen that color occur naturally before, so for a moment, I doubt their genuinity. Then I remember my situation.

And, belatedly, realize that he had said something.

Right. "Um, what?" I say politely.

"You were speaking aloud," he repeats. "Your insults. I can only assume, if you are indeed our expected guest, that you were speaking of Axel. I would caution against it."

Expected… guest?

Guest of _where? _There is nothing here but a vast plane of white! I feel like pointing this out to him, but decide against it. He is, after all, most likely aware as much.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not your guest," I apologize instead.

"No?" he says. I find myself wrinkling my nose at his mysteriously smug tone.

"Where did you come from?" I ask, changing the subject.

"No other place than here," he says, looking bemused.

"No, I mean… you just kind of appeared."

"And… you're surprised?"

Considering that I have just found out that a) the Shadow King is real, b) my brother has been kidnapped to another world, and c) I may possibly be dead, I probably ought not to be surprised. But in all honesty, I am, so.

"Yes," I say truthfully, after a moment of thought.

"Hmm," he says, looking self-satisfied. "Well, I came from behind that wall." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, towards an area of white that looks no different from the rest of our surroundings.

Gee. That was helpful. "There's nothing there," I point out.

"You don't see it?" He smirks.

"No," I say shortly, not in the mood to play games.

"You're not looking hard enough," he says, then steps behind… nothing. Half of him disappears, painted white. I frown. He takes another step sideways and is gone.

"I don't get it," I mumble to myself.

"Are you sure you're not our guest, Demyx?" he asks from behind me. I flinch and spin around and there he is. Suddenly, for no discernable reason, I am not so sure.

"I…" I falter, then blink in realization. "I'm not Demyx. I'm Myde."

"Here, you're Demyx," he says cryptically. I am disappointed by his lack of disappointment. "I thought it was you. Curious."

"What's curious?" I say.

"Oh, nothing," he says lightly. "I just wanted a look at our guest. It's unusual for a Somebody to visit. Not that anybody's Somebody here. Have fun." He turns into nowhere and disappears into white once again.

"Wait!" I blurt.

"…yes?"

I don't see him, but I respond to his voice. "Do you know your way around here?"

"…you could say that, yes." His tone hasn't changed noticeably, but he somehow sounds highly amused, which kind of ticks me off.

"Think maybe you could help me?" I ask wearily.

"Absolutely."

I smile in relief, waiting for him to show up again. A moment or six passes with no change.

"Well?" I finally ask, looking around.

"'Well' what?"

I flinch, having half-expected him to be gone. "_Well_, are you going to help me?"

"Probably not."

"But you said you would!" Yep, definitely ticked off.

"I most certainly did not."

"You did," I protest. "You said 'Absolutely.'"

"I did say that," agrees his voice. "And it's true—I _could_ help you. I never said I _would_."

You know what I hate? Riddlers. I really, really hate riddlers.

"Okay, fine," I retort sourly. "Where is the, ah…" Where was I supposed to go again?

"The castle?" suggests the voice.

Right. That. "Yes, the castle. Where is it?"

"It's in the middle," he says.

"The middle of what?"

"The world."

"What, like the center of the _earth_?"

"No. Not that world."

"What world?"

"The World That Never Was."

This response is so dumbfounding that I put a hand to my temple, weary of stress. "Look," I say. "Just tell me how to _get_ there."

"Just make your way through the Labyrinth, that's all," says the voice.

In a flash, my situation becomes clear, and I subconsciously pat the bulge in my back pocket, where I have tucked my red journal. The labyrinth, eh? Oh. _That_ castle. Great. Just great.

I take a moment to ponder how helpful it would be if I knew at least where I was. I don't remember anything about this in the book. With nothing else to do—and sure that the strange slate-haired man has abandoned me—I begin walking forward.

As I suspected, nothing appears over the nonexistent horizon. I do not bump into any invisible walls, nor does any helpful goblin appear to light the way. Not that light is needed—there is no shadow anywhere. After tiring my legs, I sit and pull out my red journal.

_The Labyrinth_, the front reads. I mildly muse how ironic it is that I find myself in this world while the story itself remains unfinished. I flip through the first few pages, filled with 'x' marks and crossed-through lines. "I'm sure this would be incredibly helpful, if I had ever actually found the right words," I mutter to myself, searching for any untouched lines.

In the first chapter, I find four.

_In this world, nothing is as it seems._

_Take nothing for granted._

"_You're simply not looking hard enough," he said._

_Everything suddenly became clear_.

I wait for a moment for things to become clear.

They don't.

"Okay," I say aloud to myself. "Okay."

I stand and tuck the book in my back pocket again, and, as an afterthought, begin walking in a different direction.

Not three yards go by before I trip and knock my head against something that definitely wasn't there before. Two seconds of dizziness. One time I blink my eyes.

The world is no longer white. It is black.

* * *

**A/N: **Enter a mysterious man in black! Who could it be? (Like you can't tell from the hair.) Well, "Myde" has no idea, in any case. The developments continue to unfold.

Read & Review, please!


	4. The Rose Garden

**A/N:** I managed to bring the length up about a page this time. Enter new character! I apologize; it's been a while. I've been extra busy this summer taking advantage of my freedom, but once I'm off work I should start to relax a bit more and therefore have more free time. The next update should be sooner. I've only got one review and I don't think there's anything else I need to explain here, so... read on!  
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**Genre: **Fantasy/Romance. **Fandom: **Kingdom Hearts, The Labyrinth.

**Summary: **Myde is just an ordinary misfit with a story in his head. What he never expects is that, in a fit of anger, something as simple as a line spoken aloud could cause the whole thing to become real. Now the ruler of the World That Never Was, Axel, is holding his half brother hostage, and the only way to get through is to solve the Labyrinth of infamy. In a place that Never Was, where nothing is what it seems, Myde is about to discover just how strange fiction can be. KingdomHearts/Labyrinth X-Over. Rated T for now.

**Disclaimer: **I own neither the characters nor the plot, only the unique way in which I shall interpret them.

**Warnings: **Cussing, possible adult themes, violence, man-on-man romance.

**The Labyrinth**

**Chapter 4  
**

**The Rose Garden  
**

* * *

The black, I realize, isn't a sudden switch of color in this weird plane of existence. It's the color you see when you're unconscious.

I realize this when I become un-unconscious. Awake, that is. When I wake. I blink my eyes open blearily and the black fades to the edges of my vision, glaring white hurting my eyes. I could swear this white is brighter than the last white. Which doesn't make sense, because even if they dumped the world in Clorox or something, the white was pretty damn white. How much whiter can it get?

"Close your eyes again," suggests the voice from earlier.

Too groggy to wonder why he was here again, I oblige.

"Now open them slowly."

I flutter my eyelids open carefully, shielding my view with my hand. I could swear I see something, but it looks just white.

"What do you see?" asks the voice.

"A rose," I blurt, then blink to myself in astonishment. Wait, why did I say that? I didn't see a rose. All I see is white. "Nothing," I correct. "I don't see anything."

"Interesting," says the voice. A gloved hand enters my vision and after a pause, I accept it. He pulls me to my feet as I grip my temple, which unfortunately doesn't ease my splitting headache.

"Won't you just help me get to the freaking castle?" I sigh wearily. "Seriously, dude."

"You should sit down," he suggests cryptically. "You hit your head pretty hard."

"On what?" I snap. "An empty space?"

"On a wall, actually," he says.

"Listen—what's your name?"

"Zexion."

"Well listen, Zexion—_there are no walls_. Okay? Okay. Now that we've got that straight, I think it's quite clear why I couldn't have hit my head on one."

"Really now? That's curious." He looks amused, which annoys me.

"Yeah, well." I pointedly ignore him, pulling out my book and flipping through the pages as though they'll tell me something. I place my finger on a line in the middle and spin on my heels as though the page is a compass, stopping to face a random direction, towards which I immediately stomp off.

Zexion chuckles. "You're doing it wrong."

"Your _face_ is doing it wrong," I mutter darkly, but I slow and look around carefully for any change in the landscape. None.

"Just saying," he says lightly.

"If you can't help me, go away," I say loudly.

"Who says I can't help you?"

"_You_ did," I say, turning around to glare at him in frustration. "You wouldn't tell me where the castle is."

"You never asked," he points out, raising a single sculpted eyebrow. Somehow, without any discernible light source, every strand of his hair gleams.

I freaking hate riddlers.

"Fine. Where is the castle?" I say, folding my arms, convinced that he'll find a way to slip out of this question, too.

To my surprise, he lifts an arm and points in the direction behind him, answering promptly, "That way."

I blink, then trot over to peer in the direction he is pointing. I see nothing.

_No matter_, I decide, striding forward confidently. With no warning, a thorny sensation attacks my legs, some invisible force keeping me from moving onward. "Gah!" I splurt.

"You're doing it wrong… again," he says.

"If the castle is that way, and I'm walking that way, _why can't I get there?_" I ask through my teeth.

"Because, like I said, you have to go through the Labyrinth."

Fuck riddlers. (Oh crap, I'm cussing again.) I decide it's not worth the argument and just go with it. "Okay. Fine. _How_ do I go through the Labyrinth?"

"You go that way." He points a different direction altogether, one that would have been much more helpful to begin with. Just as I begin to change my course, however, he adds, "But you have to be able to see it properly."

"I see white," I say flatly.

"That is precisely your problem," he agrees.

"Okayyyy… How do I _not_ see white?"

That was a straightforward enough question, right? I pray for him to make it easier for me.

"I'll show you," he says, and I stifle a sigh of relief as he sidles up behind me. His breath on my neck incites a shiver as he covers my eyes with his hands. "Close your eyes."

Entranced by his cooperation, I obey.

"Visualize what's in front of you."

I imagine white, but it's difficult to make myself see anything other than the black of my eyelids.

"Now erase that."

Erase it? _Okay, sure._ No more white. _But then what do I have?_ Just nothing—a blank canvas. That isn't white. _Huh._

"Now let yourself see what _could_ be in front of you. What might be there when you open your eyes? Not white. Not emptiness. Something is there. What will you see?"

His voice is weirdly… enticing. _Right, visualization_. Umm… A fire-breathing dragon of awesomeness? No. I'd feel heat. The castle? No, that's supposed to be after the labyrinth. A door? A door to the labyrinth. _That'd be nice._

I breathe out evenly, thinking back to the words of my book.

_Nothing is as it seems_.

Okay, so there is not nothing there. All right. Which means there is _something_ there. What is it?

_Take nothing for granted_.

I haven't taken anything for granted! I thought 'nothing' because I saw nothing! Okay, eyes closed, ignoring sight. _What else? _I fell. I tripped over something. Something near here, I think. Okay, so there's something low to the ground. And I hit my head on something… so let's assume there are walls. And something pushing at my legs, scratching, like thorns.

_Thorns_.

Suddenly I picture a giant mass of thorny briars crawling all over a massive, mossy wall, reminiscent of _Sleeping Beauty_. I suck in a breath. Is that what's there? Is that the entrance to the labyrinth?

"Open your eyes," says Zexion, removing his hands from my face.

I blink my eyes open, forgetting my imagery, expecting white. Nothing is there—it is the same blankness from before.

"You're not looking hard enough," he says.

_You're simply not looking hard enough_.

I shut my eyes tightly again, then open them with a determination to see something that wasn't there before.

To my surprise, suddenly filling my vision is a stone wall and an arch, rosebushes lining the ground. The stone is a light dappled color, rather lovely, and behind the wall is pale blue sky.

I groan in disappointment. "That's not what I pictured at _all_!" I say.

Zexion chuckles.

I blink twice more, the reality suddenly occurring to me that my surroundings have actually changed. The more I look around, taking in the landscape, the more real it seems to become.

_Everything suddenly became clear_.

"Oh," I say blankly, lacking the words to express my thoughts.

I turn to glance behind me at Zexion, but he is gone.

_Was he ever there?_

I step forward hesitantly, peering around the arch to find someone entirely new kneeling at the foot of what appears to be a garden, humming to himself softly. The new figure is dressed in high-waisted black pants and a piratey loose white shirt, and his hair is an unnatural blush pink, layered haphazardly with choppy bangs that fall to his eyebrows. His strong jaw belies the femininity of his hair color, and I am shaking my head at the contradiction of the whole thing when he suddenly glances up at me with sky-blue eyes.

"Well hey, stranger," he says.

"Hi…" I say cautiously, glancing around. The garden is large, decorative, and laden with pathways, fountains, and roses of all colors and shades. "Do you, um… happen to know the way through the labyrinth?"

He arches a pink eyebrow at me, smirking. I am reminded of Zexion, which makes me wary. "Asking favors already, and you don't even know my name?" He stands, brushing his gloved hands off on his pants and setting down his trowel. I offer a greeting smile awkwardly as his eyes flick up and down my figure.

"Sorry… Um, what's your name?"

"What's yours, babe?" His smirk widens into a wicked grin as he extends a hand for me to shake, which I accept with caution.

_Demyx_.

I blink, denying Zexion's voice in my head, and answer firmly, "Myde."

"Myde… Interesting." He nods as though satisfied, leaning down to smell a bloodred rose. "I am Marluxia."

I wonder of his purpose. Is he some kind of a gatekeeper? "Right. Hi. So… Marluxia. What do you, uh, do around here?"

"I garden… clearly," he says.

I flush. "Right," I repeat.

He stares at me for a moment longer as I try and think of a way to approach the subject of the labyrinth without being rude.

"Well," he says finally, "would you like to help?"

"Help? Uh—" I remember what Axel had told me. _13'o'clock midnight_. I don't know when that could be, but I can't waste time. "I can't," I blurt apologetically.

"Why not?" he asks. "You don't look busy."

"I am, actually," I say. "I have to find my way through the labyrinth, and, uh, yeah." I scratch my head sheepishly.

"The Labyrinth?" Suddenly he looks interested, as though I hadn't already told him this. "What on earth for?"

"Uh… I'm meeting someone at the castle," I say, not sure of how prudent it is to tell the whole story. At least it's the truth, I figure.

"Huh. It's not easy to get through the Labyrinth, you know," he says.

I know.

"I know."

"Good." He turns back to his roses.

"Can you help me?" I ask.

"Honestly… no," he says. "I don't really know the way through myself. Sorry."

_Damn_. I have an urge to curse again, but repress it for fear of growing a habit. "Do you know anything at all that could help me?" I ask desperately.

He looks thoughtful for a moment, expression unreadable. Finally, he offers, "Okay, fine. I have two pieces of advice."

"I'll take them," I say, breathing a sigh of gratitude.

"One: If you don't see something, that doesn't mean it's not there. Look harder."

I nod eagerly.

"Two: _Don't_ go that way." He points to a wooden door I hadn't noticed.

I nod again. "Thank you." I turn to head the opposite direction, taking as long strides as I can manage.

"Good luck!" he shouts from behind me. "You'll need it!"

* * *

**A/N: **So, enter Marluxia. Where will Demyx/Myde go next? A lot of the details-okay, most of them-I make up as I go, so tell me if that has a negative effect on the story. Please read and review if you like it; I live on feedback! Anyway the next update should be sooner. Hopefully longer, too. I'm trying to build back up to my usual 20-page chapters. I don't know why they've all been so short lately. Probably because I'm taking it scene by scene.


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